


Chasing After Ghosts and Dead Dreams

by AlexRuby



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Adult Content, Adult Language, F/M, Graphic Violence, Minutemen, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, railroad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:47:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8391376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexRuby/pseuds/AlexRuby
Summary: When Deacon partners up with the sole survivor of Vault 111, Desdemona tells him that he’s back to chasing ghost stories again.  However, when the Railroad spy meets a woman who is after ghosts of her own, Deacon can only hope that he can keep up with this woman’s frantic chase while keeping his past demons at bay.  Rated Mature/Explicit for later chapters.





	

A shrill buzzer echoed up from an old metal platform which sent an excited shiver dance across Deacon’s skin. He felt vindicated as he put the binoculars up to his eyes. This moment was seven years in the making. He never thought that the Vault would’ve opened exactly as the terminal had predicted. He came to this little cliffside, north of an abandoned town called Sanctuary Hills, more out of a personal curiosity than anything. He had been on a long, winding journey to get to this point, and he was violating a direct order from Desdemona by being here. But what Des didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, he reasoned.

She sent him to Concord to determine if they could start establishing safe houses in the north. The land was more wild which made traveling hard, and it took Deacon nearly a day and a half to make it through Lexington undisturbed. Thankfully, the northern settlements were sparsely populated and held smaller dangers -- mole rats and feral ghouls were preferable to synth coursers and super mutants. 

Unfortunately, Concord was occupied by a sizeable group of raiders. Des, however, would hear an embellished story about how he single handedly escaped the raider infested town by the skin of his teeth, and how he had managed to take out five of their biggest and toughest members before retreating into the sunset. Des rarely believed his lies anymore, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love to tell them

Nevertheless, disobeying a direct order would put him back on babysitting detail for a month. But, watching new synths as they waited for another Railroad officiate to escort them to the nearest safehouse was worth it if his research about this Vault turned out to be accurate.

The deep rumbling beneath his feet and the crescendo of the siren told him that this wasn’t some ghost chase like Desdemona feared. In fact, it was a miracle. The Vault was opening on the exact day that the terminal in the CIT ruins told him it would.

The metal platform split apart and another platform slowly rose from the ground. He stood and crept to the edge of the cliff to see better. How would these new Vault Dwellers react to their first moment above ground? Most of them had probably been born in the Vault. He’s heard of Vaults where the inhabitants had been experimented on in horrible ways. Deacon had to be on his guard in case this Vault was home to another FEV lab like the Vault in the Capital Wasteland.

As the elevator reached the top, Deacon adjusted his binoculars and was astonished. Was this Vault another experiment in isolation? There was only a single woman standing on the elevator; her chest was heaving like she had ran a great distance, and she rubbed her arms frantically as though she was trying to warm herself up. She checked a brown apparatus that was attached to her wrist and then looked around frantically.

She seemed sane enough, he reasoned. But curiosity told him to get a closer look. Deacon silently ran down the hillside and then ducked behind a wild mutfruit bush. The woman had warm brown hair that was pinned up into a bun. Her pale skin was florid and the puffiness in her eyes told him that she had been crying. She wore a tight blue and yellow jumpsuit which had the number 111 embossed on her back. He deliberately made himself look at her face. Why did Vault Tec insist on making their Vault suits so figure-hugging?

Eventually she began walking down the path towards Sanctuary. He followed her and crossed the small crick. A nearby white picket fence provided sufficient cover and he rose the binoculars back to his face. 

The Vault Dweller ran up to the Mister Handy and hugged it. Why was she treating the robot servant like it was her friend? How did she know anyone from Sanctuary Hills if she was living in a Vault for her entire life? He couldn’t hear their conversation, but the look on the woman’s face was unmistakeable. She had the same despondent look that he had when Barbra was beheaded in front of him. Deacon realized that she was probably the only survivor of the Vault -- perhaps driven insane by her isolation and just grateful to meet a friendly face, even a robotic one. No, this woman in front of him had probably lived through enough hell to last her several lifetimes. 

Deacon knew of Vault Tec and of their fucked up experiments. But to his knowledge, only one Vault was ever used to save people from the nuclear annihilation, and their success was only because the Overseer refused direct orders to do the fucked up experiments in the first place. If Vault 81 wasn’t full of isolationist bigots, they’d make a powerful ally for the Railroad’s cause.

He skittered along the white picket fence as the woman and the Mister Handy began walking his way. Despite looking out of place, the woman had a sure way about herself. Her eyes -- like the color of sunlight shining through Nuka Cola -- held a steely edge that he often saw in Des’s eyes when she was up against a challenge that she was determined to overcome. Her pale pink lips were drawn into a thin grimace when the robot butler pointed (as much as a robot could point) towards Concord. 

“Mum, if you go to Concord, perhaps someone there can help you find young Shaun.” Deacon overheard the robot say.

“Do you think so?” She replied. She seemed doubtful. “I don’t even know when Shaun was kidnapped. He could still be a baby, or he could be long dead. I don’t know if I can handle finding out the truth that my son outlived me.”

Deacon racked his memory and tried to visualize the terminal entry that spoke about Vault 111. Most of the file was corrupted, but he did remember that the file held a missive from the Director of the Institute. It simply read: “Vault 111 will open on October 22, 2287. Do not interfere. Her survival may prove key to the Institute’s future.”

The pieces didn’t add up. This woman was a riddle wrapped up in an enigma. She had a son, but he was kidnapped by an unnamed assailant, and the Institute claims that she could be the key to their future. He knew that the safest action would be to simply take her out. A dead woman and a broken Mister Handy wouldn’t garner any unwanted attention. Yet, Deacon wasn’t going to kill her. He wasn’t a mercenary, and his life of bad behavior as a teenager certainly paid him back for it with karma.

Deacon could tell that she had planned to go to Concord, and he briefly considered swinging through there on his way back to HQ to take a few of the raiders out to make her task easier. The woman could barely use a gun, let alone muster up enough moxie to kill another person in cold blood, and he had invested far too much time in finding her to let the wasteland take her so easily.

No! He had to stay focused on his main mission. While sparing her life was the best option, he couldn’t throw himself into a situation so foolishly. The Vault Dweller would have to make her own way in the world without his help. He promised himself to simply observe; intervening in the Institute’s affairs like this would spell disaster for not only himself but for Des and the Railroad. They had come too far as an organization for him to throw it all away to protect this woman like he was some secret agent guardian angel. (Although, that would make a great band name, he mused). The Vault Dweller had her robot butler to watch her back. Deacon had one more mission objective to complete before he had to get back to Des.

He needed to leave this woman a message somehow. If she survived the wasteland and all of its dangers, then she deserved to join their organization. Her connection to the Institute would be invaluable, and Deacon was always of the mind that it was better to make friends than kill enemies. He had to take a leap and leave the rest up to faith and fate.

Deacon wound back around the fence line and then crossed the road and cut behind the rusted playground. The Vault Dweller and her robot were busy exterminating the vermin that had infested some of the abandoned houses. Her frantic gunshots could be heard; Deacon hoped her aim would get better as she got more acclimating to living outside of the Vault.

He pulled out a small flyer that had the phrase: “Join the Railroad” written on it in large, black letters. There was no other distinguishing markings. That was a conscious choice on his part and one that he took pride in. He remembered telling Des that if someone really wanted to join their cause, then they would need to show the initiative to find them first. This woman, however, needed an extra push.

Deacon pulled out a red marker and wrote below the flyer in clear handwriting: “Follow the Freedom Trail.” Most wastelanders had considered The Freedom Trail to be a relic of some bygone era. Yet, he hoped that this Vault Dweller was smarter than the average wastelander. He placed the flyer on a red workbench and weighed the paper down with a rusted wrench.

The rest of Deacon’s plan had to be left up to time but that didn’t bother him. Uncovering an unexpected secret, and then waiting for it to unfold for seven years made him a patient man.

It was five weeks later when Deacon first got word that the Vault Dweller wasn’t only alive but had somehow managed to single-handedly kill the raiders in Concord and had managed to take down a Deathclaw that had nested in the sewers. Based on the reports that he recieved from Sturges, Deacon had really underestimated the woman.

Deacon’s eyes scanned through Sturges’s choppy handwriting; the man was an invaluable informant but refused to become a full fledged Railroad member because of his loyalty to some Commonwealth Minuteman who saved his life in Quincy. Deacon was sorry that Sturges and his group had fallen on such hard times, but according to his note, they all had settled down in Sanctuary Hills. Apparently, Leah (the Vault Dweller’s name pleasantly rolled off his tongue when he sounded it out loud) had stayed to help them set up a small settlement in the ruins of suburbia. Sturges’s closing words were “Keep an eye out for her. She’s a rarity in a world as harsh as ours.”

Apparently, she was planning a trip to Diamond City. For what, Deacon hadn’t the foggiest clue, but keeping an eye on her became his main objective. Even Des was running out of things for him to do now that the Railroad was down to only five members. The disaster at the Switchboard really culled their numbers, and eventually, many of the survivors left the organization for good. Des took their betrayal as a personal affront, but Deacon knew that most of them had families to care for and only left the Railroad out of self preservation. Plus, having sympathetic former Railroad agents spread far and wide in the Commonwealth was more of a boon than anything. Nevertheless, they just didn’t have enough manpower to cover all of the needs of the escaping synths.

He watched Sturges’s letter go up in flames although Carrington would’ve objected to his bunsen burner being used to dispose of sensitive evidence. That egghead was brilliant. He was also a major stick in the mud, and had a major stick up his ass most of the time. Deacon grabbed a small pack, full of old Diamond City Guard armor and fixed the sunglasses that he never took off. Once the Vault Dweller made it to Diamond City, she would probably need another crumb on the bread trail to lead her to the HQ. 

When Deacon walked into the war room, he saw Desdemona stooped over the circular table. She was scrutinizing a map of the greater Boston area with a frown on her face. He walked past her without acknowledging her -- in his experience, it was always better to ask forgiveness than permission -- but the battle-hardened voice stopped him.

“Dee, where are you going?”

“Out for milk. I noticed that we were out.”

Des didn’t flinch at his obvious lie, but she did shoot him a glance that could’ve frightened the strongest super mutant.

He sighed. “I’m going to Diamond City.” He replied, “I’m following a lead on a new recruit for us. I was told that she’d be there within the week.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that ghost you said you gave up following. I sent Glory out to Sanctuary Hills when you came back after being two weeks overdue to report in. She said that there was no way inside the Vault, and that the nearby settlement was only five strong and they all barely had enough to feed themselves.”

Deacon acted wounded, but glowered inwardly at the idea that Glory was sniffing around his things. She was an adept fighter, sure, but he and Glory never really got along. If he cared less about his welfare, he would’ve told her long ago that her new downloaded personality was picked out of Dr. Amari’s reject pile.

“Des, you wound me! You ordered me to stay away from the Vault Dweller. Do you really think I would defy another direct order? I’m appalled and outraged.”

“Then who are you tracking?” She asked suspiciously.

“Um. I think her name was Leah. But you can never be too sure with informants these days.”

Desdemona sighed and lit a cigarette. Talking with Deacon always made her want to smoke. “Dee, I know you were excited when you came across that file about Vault 111’s whereabouts on the computer in the CIT ruins. To be honest, I was willing to humor you because of Barbara’s recent passing. However, that was seven years ago. So I’m going to tell you the exact same thing that I told you then: we cannot move on the Institute at this time. If she is a spy planted by them, or if she is even affiliated with the Institute in any way, then she is a danger to us and to our mission. We have spies on the inside of the Institute for a reason. We don’t know this woman, and we cannot trust her. We also don’t have enough manpower to spare for you to teach the little Vault Princess how to fight against an army of fully weaponized synths.” 

“Des, sometimes you’ve gotta have a little faith.” Deacon replied. “Just let me check her out. If she’s a dud, then there’s no harm. I promise that I won't interact with her. You know me! When have my disguises ever failed me?”

She didn’t answer that, but she also didn’t stop him when he walked out of the headquarters.

Sure enough, Sturges was right about Leah’s arrival in Diamond City. She arrived outside the Great Green Jewel the day after Deacon had infiltrated the Diamond City Guards. The key to avoid arousing suspicion was to act like you belonged … and having a killer disguise didn’t hurt either.

Deacon, dressed in the armor and tailed a caravan from Bunker Hill into the entrance to Diamond City. When one of the caravan guards questioned Deacon’s presence, he replied that it was the Mayor’s new policy to escort caravans along the dangerous road from Bunker Hill to Diamond City. When they arrived, nobody questioned his presence. Not even Mayor McDonough when he called an all staff meeting to remind the guards to not let a certain journalist by the name of Piper Wright into the city.

Of course, that plan went to hell once the nosy journalist lied to Danny about having a caravan guard traveling from Quincy waiting to be let in. Did anyone read the Common Sense Times anymore? Quincy was in ruins. Piper was a notoriously bad liar, and the last caravan trade deal was yesterday when Deacon pulled the same trick!

“Alright, alright Piper. No need to make it personal.” He heard Danny say into the intercom. The giant metal door slowly opened and Deacon tucked himself safely against the wall. Observe, but don’t interfere, He reminded himself.

Mayor McDonough came rushing down the steps from his office, but his cries were drowned out from the metal grinding of the door opening.

Deacon pulled out a wrinkled Grognak comic and pretended to be reading as the scene unfolded before him. Piper and the Mayor argued about the right to free speech while the Vault Dweller just stood by and watched helplessly. Deacon glanced up and noticed that she was still wearing that damned tight Vault suit albeit a little better reinforced with miscellaneous pieces of armor that she cobbled together from her fallen foes. Her brown hair was pulled back into a short ponytail and she carried a hunting rifle. This woman was a far cry from the puffy eyed pinup that he saw exit the Vault five weeks ago.

Piper’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he lit a cigarette after putting the Grognak comic on the counter.

“Look, Blue. I gotta go do some stuff but why don’t you come by later? I’ve got a story that you’d be perfect for.” 

She nodded and then turned to face him. He had never seen her up close before. The woman went over to Danny and apologized for Piper’s lie. However, Danny wasn’t so easily swayed by her sweet talking. 

“Look, why don’t you just tell me what you’re here for so I can put it in the logs.” He replied irritably.

Sadness crossed her face like a fleeting wind. “I’m looking for my infant son, Shaun. He was kidnapped.”

“Hey, look lady.” Danny replied, “We don’t deal in kidnapping cases. It’s a direct order from the Mayor.”

“C’mon,” she purred and slid him a pile of caps, “You might not be able to help, but surely a smart man like yourself knows someone who can help.”

Deacon’s heart skipped and he nearly coughed on the smoke that had just entered his lungs. This silver-tongued devil was a woman after his own heart, he mused.

“I don’t deal in bribes.” Danny bit out.

“Fine.” Leah replied curtly. She swept the caps back into a small drawstring bag and sauntered away. Deacon tried to stop himself from looking, but when his eyes met hers he was captivated. 

“Can I buy that from you?” She asked.

“Huh?” Deacon blinked a few times. God, he needed to give up this spy gig if a simple woman could render him mute and dumb.

“The Grognak comic you were reading.” She replied as if he was slow. “I collect them. I use to read them a lot in my … old life.”

Deacon swallowed thickly and grinned. She took the bait.

“No need to buy it ma’am. You’s can have it. Consider it a welcome present from the Great Green Jewel herself.” Deacon’s voice was gruff. He adopted the familiar twang of the city.

“Really? Thanks?” Leah replied. Her smile was bright; her teeth were almost unnaturally white.

She put the comic in her rucksack and sauntered away. She took one last look behind her shoulder and noticed that the nice Diamond City Guard was gone.

Deacon slipped past her under the cover of a stealth boy. The second seed had been planted; a small part of his Railroad flyer poked out from the pages of the Grognak comic. Another breadcrumb to lead her to the Railroad. To him. 

Their cat and mouse dance followed the same pattern the following week. Deacon was lounging up against a wooden junk wall in Bunker Hill’s central marketplace when she crossed his path. Their exchange was short. She glanced his way while being accompanied by Edward Deegan, the ghoul body guard of the Cabot’s. Her smile was polite, but a little strained. Was she suspicious of him?

Deegan slowed his pace and let Leah overtake him. Almost like it was a practiced dance, Deacon walked astride the ghoul mercenary and slipped him a folded piece of paper like he was passing notes in the back of class. Deegan grabbed the note and nonchalantly slipped it into the rucksack that was hanging off her hip. Seed number three was planted.

Their last exchange happened in the great free city of Goodneighbor. She walked into the town with the Great Synth Detective Nick Valentine on her heels. Deacon was slumped against a nearby wall and held a canister of Jet in his hands. Granted, it was empty; he wasn’t a chem user, but sometimes he had to play the part just convincingly enough to blend in.

“Welcome to Goodneighbor.” the synth drawled, “Don’t be fooled by this den of vice and disolude. There’s some good people here if you look underneath all of the garbage.”

Deacon disguised his snicker as a rattling, deathly cough. Nick was a good person; he was one of the few people that Deacon actually respected, hell, even admired. His existence proved the Railroad’s point. Synths -- even older Gen 2 models -- deserved to live their own lives out of the Institute’s control.

Deacon rose unsteadily to his feet and stumbled down the alleyway. Hancock passed him and gave him a knowing smile. Another ally the Railroad had was in Mayor Hancock. He let them use his city to spread the message about the Institute. In fact, this was the only city where Deacon’s advertisements and holotapes were left out in the open. Hancock overlooked the Railroad’s activities in his city and asked nothing in return. Deacon suspected that Hancock had his own suspicions about the Institute’s influence, and he probably wanted to stick it to them in any way he could.

Once he was out of sight from the Vault Dweller and her synth companion, he pulled on a different shirt, put on his pompadour wig, and vigorously washed the grime and dirt off his face. In a matter of minutes, he had transformed from a drug addicted cad to an average joe who was looking to reminisce in The Memory Den.

When he walked into the quiet, derelict old cinema house the woman lounging on the chaise rose to meet him.

“Oh, Dee. I’ve been missing you. I was wondering when you’d slink back to my den” Irma purred. The woman was a knockout. Her blond hair was always done up in soft curls and her red dress was cut just low enough to entice even the most pious man.

“You know me, babe.” He grinned, “I couldn’t stay away from you forever.”

Irma pursed her red lips and cocked an eyebrow. “So what’ll it be hon. The usual wooing scene or are we reminiscing over something saucy tonight?”

Deacon pushed the temptation down and masked his discomfort with an easy-going smile. “Unfortunately, I’m on the clock so I can’t indulge. I just need to borrow a pod for a bit. You can charge me the normal rate, but don’t load in any programs.”

Irma pouted and then sighed, “When is Des gonna let you off your leash sweetheart. I bet that Barbara's been missin you something fierce.”

He shrugged but climbed into the memory pod with a heavy heart. When Barbara was murdered in front of him, Deacon spent nearly every cap that he had reliving their life and their young romance. The Memory Den wouldn’t let a person re-experience his or her memories, but he or she could watch it unfold like an old home movie. What no one ever tells people is that living in the past can be just as addicting as any chem.

The pod shut around him and the outside noise was dulled but not altogether snuffed out. Deacon trained his eyes on the screen in front of him. The message “Please stand by” flickered occasionally.

Within the hour, the Vault Dweller and Nick entered into the memory den. Irma greeted Nick with the same sultry tone that she had greeted Deacon. Even out of the corner of his eye, Deacon could tell that the Vault Dweller didn’t appreciate Irma’s femme fatale act.

Nick and Leah were ushered through the back door and down the stairs to Doctor Amari’s laboratory. Deacon waited another ten minutes before pressing the button that ended the program. Fresh air whirled around him as he climbed out.

Deacon slipped Irma a tin full of caps along with another folded note. “Could you give this to the brunette who walked in here with Nick?”

Irma smirked, “Sure, hon. Doing some more recruiting, are we?”

“You know that I can’t tell you any of the details, Irma.” He replied. “Just know that the Railroad appreciates your help with this.”

“Fine Dee, you can keep your secrets. You know that I’m a sucker for a mysterious man.” She replied.

Deacon flashed her a winning smile and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, babe. I owe you one.”

Despite all of Deacon’s efforts, two weeks had passed without a sign of the Vault Dweller. Deacon wondered if he had been a fool in putting so much work towards recruiting just one woman. Then one rainy night, his effort paid off when the tin cans began chiming in the war room. Someone must’ve figured out the password because they were on their way here.

Deacon hid in the shadows as Glory, Desdemona, and Drummer Boy stood with their weapons. As the figure emerged from the darkness, the trio drew their weapons on the Vault Dweller.

“Stop right there.” Des’s voice punctuated each word. “You obviously went through a lot of effort to get here. But before we go any further, answer my questions. Who the hell are you?”

Leah’s Vault suit was covered in blood, and she was breathing heavily from the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Why don’t you tell me who you are first?” The woman’s voice was heavy and labored; Des’s dour look made it look like she ate a rotten mutfruit.

“That’s not how this exchange is gonna work, sweetheart.” Des bit out. “How exactly did you get here? Speak quickly; I have no issues with having Glory turn you into a pile of giblets.” 

Damn, Des. Deacon thought. That’s a hell of a welcome spiel. 

“I followed the Freedom Trail looking for the Railroad. I promise that I’m not your enemy.” 

“If that’s true, then you have nothing to fear. Who told you to contact us?” Des asked. 

“I kept finding these flyers during my travels.” She replied and pulled out all four of Deacon’s advertisements. “At first, I thought it was a coincidence, and then I thought that it was a practical joke, but now I’ve realized that someone has been following me and they have for a while now.”

Des shot an angry look back towards Deacon. If this didn’t work out, then he knew that he’d be under house arrest for years.

“We’ll look into that claim.” Des replied, “My name is Desdemona and I’m the leader of the Railroad. And you are?”

“I’m Leah. I’m the General of the Minutemen.” The woman replied with a proud smile. She had a nice smile, Deacon thought.

“Minutemen, huh?” Des seemed intrigued and Deacon decided that it was safe to step out of the shadows. “Deacon, where have you been?”

“You guys were havin’ a party. I must’ve lost my invitation.” 

“I need intel.” Des replied quickly, “Who is this?” 

Deacon sized the woman up in front of him. Her caramel brown eyes looked trusting and almost hopeful. He tried to not get lost in the hope they held. 

“Wow. Newsflash Boss.” Deacon replied. His voice was tinged with frustration. He had spent months tailing this woman, and now he was expected to cough up the intel to feed his pack of struggling spies?

“This woman is kind of a big deal out there.”

“So, you’re the one who's been following me.” Leah accused. She didn’t look angry. She looked vindicated. It was as though she had suspected that Deacon was involved, but didn’t have the proof to pin it on him until now.

He shrugged. “I make it my job to know about people especially ones as prolific as yourself. We owe you a truck load of Nuka Cola for what you did to Kellogg. He was our public enemy number one.”

Right after Deacon left Diamond City, intel reports told stories of Nick Valentine and an unnamed woman breaking into Fort Hargen and emerging five hours later covered in blood, coolant, and burns. Deacon didn’t get confirmation about Kellogg’s death until he saw both of them walk into Dr. Amari’s office in the Memory Den.

“So you’re vouching for her?” Desdemona asked.

“Yes!” Deacon replied a little too enthusiastically. He toned down his excitement with a clearing of this throat, “She’s someone we want on our side.”

“I’m flattered.” Leah replied sardonically.

“No seriously, you’ve left a trail of destruction in your wake and you’ve gone places that no sane person would go alone.”

Deacon recalled the intel reports of her killing the raiders in Concord and then taking on the Deathclaw with nothing but a minigun and a rusty ol’ set of T-58 Power Armor. He almost didn’t believe the stories about her discovering the secret to the Cabot’s abnormal longevity until Deegan himself confirmed that the Cabot house would eventually fall.

Leah shrugged nonchalantly but looked flushed. Was he embarassing her?

“Well this changes things, I think.” Desdemona replied. She motioned towards Glory and Drummer Boy and they both lowered their weapons. “What, if anything, have you heard about us? I want to clear up the misconceptions now so you have a clear picture of what you’d be getting yourself into.”

Leah replied, “Nothing much really. There was a Pre War organization of the same name during the Civil War that helped escaped slaves make it to Canada. I encountered a Protectron in the Boston Commons and followed the Freedom Trail here.”

“We took what that Pre War Railroad organization did and modified it to fit our needs. We help synths escape persecution from the Institute. You do know what a synth is, right?”

“I know a little about them, but I’m no expert”

“Well, the Institute treats them no better than slaves. All of them are considered property, like someone’s wrench or screwdriver. The Institute believes they are tools. We, however, know that they have sentience, and we believe they are sapient.”

Leah nodded. She seemed unfazed by everything. This was good, Deacon reasoned.

“I have one final question before any decisions can be made.” Desdemona replied, “And believe me, this question is important so decide carefully how you answer. Would you risk your life to save a fellow man, even if that man is a synth?”

Leah answered her immediately, “Of course. What should it matter if the person is a synth or not.”

“Good answer.” Desdemona replied with a smile.

“Deacon, get this girl outfitted.” She ordered and then addressed Leah, “When you are done, come find me. I have your first mission once you are ready.”

Glory, Drummer Boy, and Des exited into the brick hallway that led to HQ, and Deacon was left alone with the Vault Dweller. 

“Hey, I hope you didn’t mind the reception. When you tango with the Institute you gotta be careful when someone new gets on the dance floor.”

“If you greet all newcomers like that no one’s ever going to help you.” Leah replied cooly. So can I go in or do I have to say the secret club password first?”

Woah, Deacon got whiplash from her change in attitude.

“Look. The precautions are necessary. In our business, if we underestimate our enemy’s capabilities it’s game over.” Leah still didn’t look happy. She set her backpack down with a loud crash and perched atop of it. She really just wanted to lie down. She had been through hell to get there.

Deacon continued, “But it’s all good now! I vouched for you. Nobody got shot. Still, I would consider it a close personal favor if you didn’t sell us out to the Institute. Thanks.”

Leah’s eyes narrowed. “Why would I do that? What do you know about the Institute?”

“Oh, I know everything about the Institute.” Deacon lied, “In our little outfit, it’s my job to know things. And with everything you’ve done in the wasteland, it’s clear you’re capable. You’re a dangerous enemy, but I’m betting that you’re a valuable ally.”

“But why the trust? You can’t be taking all of this on fate.” 

“I don’t know if we can trust you. But I hope we can. You just survived a hell of a crisis in that Vault, and so did we. So we may be just a teeny, weeny bit desperate for new members and you were my first choice.”

“How did you know that I was from a Vault?”

Deacon shot her a smug smile at the question, “Honey, I watched you come out of it and take your first brave steps into this new world. But look, if everything was sunshines and bottle caps, then we’d probably play a longer ‘getting to know you game.” But we don’t have that luxury.”

“Really, is that all?” She asked sardonically. “You recruited me out of all of the other mercenaries and low lives in the Commonwealth? Why do you want me?”

Deacon rolled his eyes from behind his sunglasses. “You just don’t give up, do you? Look it’s like this. I have a short list of people I think would be a good addition to our family. Your name was at the top. What can I say, you piqued my interest, so I asked around about you. I did my homework, and I heard about your adventures in Concord, at the Corvega Factory, and over with Edward Deegan and the Cabot family. All along the way, you never stopped impressing me so I decided to give you the proper push you needed to find us. Look, I hate that I have to come out and say this: the Railroad needs you.”

She looked at him skeptically. Deacon felt exposed but maintained the eye contact from behind his sunglasses.

“I’m not sure I’m interested.” 

He tried to keep a neutral expression, but in reality Deacon wanted to punch the brick wall in frustration. “Look, I understand that you’re doubtful about this organization. Hell, I was when I joined. But I think you can make a real difference in the Commonwealth. I don’t know what else I can say to convince you other than getting on my knees and begging.”

“Look, I have a lot of irons in the fire right now.” She replied. “I’m on a mission right now that takes priority over everything -- even my duties as General -- and I don’t know if I have time to help save another struggling organization.” 

This was it, Deacon thought. He failed. The ghost was going to walk out of here and never come back. Des was right, maybe putting forth all of this effort was a waste of time. But he couldn’t give up.

“Listen, I’ll make you a deal. Even if you don’t join the Railroad, we have a little vetting process that all recruits undergo. If you come with me on a quick mission, do a couple easy tasks over in Lexington, and turn a few heads, then the invitation to join our organization will be open indefinitely. In turn, I’ll help you with this grandiose personal quest that you’re on. I have connections to people all across the Commonwealth and I don’t charge commission. What do you say?”

Leah’s eyes narrowed as she considered his final offer. Deacon was pretty sure that his heart would beat out of his chest. The suspense might literally kill him.

“Alright, I accept.” She said. “But we do my mission first.” 

“Sounds like a deal, partner.” Deacon replied with a smile after finally exhaling the breath he had been holding. This sounds like the start to a mutually beneficial relationship.”


End file.
